


Comets Falling

by howelllesters



Series: Hand Over Heart [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, Pastel Dan, Pastel Dan and Punk Phil, Punk Phil, References to Depression, blogger!dan, mental health references are not explicit but they are there, probably the worst band name in the entire world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This catches up with the Dan and Phil of the Modern Fairytale universe roughly a year later, and shows a very key moment in their relationship through little snapshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comets Falling

“You’ve been waiting for it all week, and the time has finally come… it is Friday night and we are joined in the studio by Pixel People!”

The sound of people hollering and cheering from the studio followed, mostly likely joined by the excited noises people were making in their cars, in their bedrooms, at work. A relatively unknown band, catapulted into the spotlight with the help of one solid single quickly followed up by another and a feature on the nation’s biggest radio show, and now they were back on that same show to the eager ears of thousands of fans.

“Welcome back!”

“Thank you!” came the confident, unfazed voice of Ollie, unofficial lead spokesperson for the band. “It’s great to be back!”

For the people that worked in the studio, the four men sat before them were a far cry from the ragtag lot that had tumbled in the first time they’d ever been on the radio.

Gone was the scruffy hair of the lead singer, the graphic tees of the guitarist, the battered converse they all sported.

Pixel People were now an incredibly smart looking fourpiece, their outfits styled to subtly complement each other. Hair was tamed and styled, scruff on the face was just so, even their postures were different. The nervous boys from before were a thing of the past. Here sat four men incredibly comfortable with their surroundings, and buzzing to play the first show of their new tour tomorrow night.

Well, three men incredibly comfortable. One was mildly comfortable, though still dreaming of the superhero pyjama pants he’d be able to change into very shortly, absentmindedly tracing the stars inked onto his forearm for comfort.

“Now we’re here to talk about your upcoming UK tour, which kicks off tomorrow. Can the fans expect to hear the fantastic material from your recent EP?”

“Absolutely!” Cooper tagged in, grinning into the shared mic. “We’ll be playing live versions of every song from Ladders, as well as a few extra tunes that never made it to the final record, or that we’ve written in the meantime. Hopefully everyone enjoys them just as much.”

“I’m positive they will,” the bubbly radio presenter beamed at them, seamlessly moving on to a question for Phil, who was next up in the row and ready to take the microphone being swung towards him.

Nearly three hundred miles away, there was a boy listening to that very radio interview as he drove into the night, a flower in his hair and a smile on his face for the first time in a long while.

—

Saturday seemed to disappear as suddenly as it had arrived.

One moment, Phil was waking up in his hotel room, ice flooding through his body as he realised that today was the day, and the next, he was being pushed into place on stage and handed his guitar, idly wondering where the hell the day had gone.

He was pretty certain he didn’t remember even getting out of bed, too wracked with a heady mix of nerves and excitement to do anything but stare at the ceiling, and yet he here he was, all kit up in his black skinnies, signature black tee, and of course, the black flower crown that was starting to look a little worse for wear after nearly a year.

He touched it briefly before getting into position, heaving a deep sigh the same way he always did when he wore it.

Their first ever big show, and Dan wasn’t here to see it.

It was tearing him apart, despite what he’d told a concerned Pete earlier. Dan had missed plenty of shows over the last year, sure, and that was fine. Dan was off, doing his own thing, whereabouts Phil wasn’t, but if it was helping, Phil could be okay with it. He could pretend it was fine.

Except this tour was different. This wasn’t some tiny gig in a rundown bar, a set being played to a raucous student union. They were a band now, a signed band, with a record in the charts and a single in the top ten. They had fans, and proper merch, not just bulk-bought printed tshirts. They meant something, and even though he didn’t expect Dan to be here, almost didn’t want him to be because Dan was doing something far more important… he still wished he was.

The drumbeat sounded suddenly, the lights going up to the cheers of nearly two thousand people, and Phil didn’t have a chance to think or feel now.

He just had to play, and remember that the flowers in his hair matched someone else’s once upon a time, and there was a token in his pocket that told him that person was coming back.

And yet he still wished Dan was here.

Still wished he could spy Dan in the crowd, smiling lazily, because he didn’t even need to listen to the songs anymore, hardly enjoyed them because he’d heard them so many times. Still wished he could catch Dan’s eye and wink at him, snicker as he shook his head in embarrassment. Still wished Dan had that battered backstage pass with Phil’s autograph that he loved to tease him with, but they were both grateful for it when Phil could come off stage and collapse straight into Dan’s arms.

He wished he had Dan there for when the show began, to give him an encouraging smile. He wished he had Dan there for when the show ended, so they could just retreat to his room and curl up the two of them, comfortable silence, gentle kisses, soft touches.

He didn’t have Dan though. He just had a promise made a year ago, and that had to be enough.

—

There was a song sandwiched in the middle of the set that many didn’t think much of. It was just another hit, another song they hadn’t heard before, so the excitement of the new tune overshadowed much else.

The audience just liked to listen. The band just liked to play.

Phil liked to feel though.

Phil wasn’t a singer, but he could write. Sure, he was back up vocals on most of their songs, but Ollie was the main man for the job. However, when it came to their material, Phil took charge. The others helped out, occasionally came up with their own stuff, but no one could craft a song quite like Phil could. He had only improved with time, especially as new inspiration found its way to him.

A scene he watched play out in a park.

An old photograph he found buried in his parents’ attic.

A blog he found while browsing the internet one day.

He read the words and ran with them. Thoughts and feelings described with such intricate language that Phil had found himself up for hours, reading every possible post on the site and trying to understand the ideas that were being conveyed, fashion his own responses to the points being raised. He had laughed and he had cried, and he had checked back to the site every day since.

In time, Phil’s responses formed a song. The original author of the blog had no idea of his influence, and yet when Phil had given the band a first draft, his name was credited. The song didn’t make it to the EP, at Phil’s request, but he had relented when the band had begged him to allow them to play the song on tour.

So here they were. Playing Phil’s song, and Phil was pouring everything he had into his guitar, hardly aware of the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes that threatened to spill every time he realised his unwitting co-author wasn’t here to listen.

A tattoo. A flower. A memory.

‘Lion’s Tooth’: Phil Lester, Dan Howell.

—

Leaving the stage door that night was an experience Phil didn’t think he’d forget any time soon.

Usually when they left a show, they threw their stuff in the van and then found a decent pub or bar nearby. If they were too tired, it would be beer and drinks at one of their houses, ready to crash at any moment. Occasionally, there might be a few people who had enjoyed the show ready to greet them, and have a decent conversation about the gig and their music in general, and if they got really lucky, their drinks might be bought for them.

Phil kind of enjoyed it; enjoyed the feeling of being special while on stage and then lapsing back into normality straight afterwards.

Tonight was not normal.

At least a hundred people were waiting by the doors for them, armed with phones to take photos and tickets to sign, and Phil stopped in his tracks, reeling at the sight in front of him. It was made all the harsher by the street lamps illuminating the crowd in strong white light, while the black night spread out behind them infinitely.

Ollie dived straight in, revelling in the atmosphere, joined by Cooper not long after.

There were screams and shouts, their names were being called, the crowd was edging closer and Phil took a huge breath. This was overwhelming to say the least.

Eventually Pete slunk over to an unattended batch of fans too, leaving Phil fiddling with his guitar case to try and put off having to go over there. It wasn’t that he didn’t _love_ it, it was just that it was a bit much, and very unexpected. He didn’t have a clue how to react to any of that; normally he’d be on his games console by now. Cartoon pyjama pants were an acceptable substitute for superheroes.

When one of the crew came over to help him out, mistakenly believing Phil was actually having a problem with his case, Phil knew time was up, and he straightened up, planning to tackle the smaller side of the crowd first, thinking it might be easier to warm himself up if he started out manageable.

Glancing to his left where only a dozen or so - _only_ \- people were gathered, Phil went to plaster a grin on to his face and head over to say hi, when he noticed someone standing just behind the fans, leaning against the cold brick wall casual as anything.

He didn’t look like he belonged; in fact, he stuck out so much Phil couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed him before.

The boy was dressed in grey, loose clothes that hung off his lithe frame, the light picking out the scuffs on his shoes. His cheeks that were a little too hollowed, the shadows under his eyes were a little too dark, but those eyes held a little spark that Phil hadn’t seen in forever.

He offered Phil a small smile, and Phil shook his head, not believing what he was seeing.

The last time he’d seen that face, it had been wet with tears, twisting away from him to walk out of Phil’s front door and telling him not to expect him to come back any time soon. The last time he’d seen that smile was another age altogether, a distant memory Phil tried to cling on to every so often just to keep his head above water.

Sidestepping the rest of the people, suddenly nothing more than a blur in the background, Phil wandered up to the boy and stood an inch away from him, eyes flitting across his face, his eyes, his chest, taking in the fact he was actually here.

Reaching up for the tattered flower crown he was still wearing, Phil gingerly took it off and placed it gently on the tousled brown hair in front of him, sad that there were no flowers there already.

“Come back with me tonight?” Phil whispered, afraid to even touch the man in front of him lest he shimmered away like the vision Phil half-believed he was.

“Will anyone else be there?” the boy asked, his voice quivering, his expression hesitant.

The question hung heavy between them, a test. A test to see if Phil had waited like he’d assured him he would.

“No. Never.”

—

They were lying on Phil’s bed, in the exact position he’d been sprawled in just twelve hours ago, staring up at that same ceiling. Phil couldn’t believe how much had changed in that short space of time. Maybe he hadn’t woken up at all. Maybe it was still the morning of the show and he was just dreaming, the same dream that haunted him nearly every night.

“Phil.”

The voice to his side reminded him this was real.

“Dan.”

Dan twisted his head to face him and gave Phil a smile despite everything.

Their faces were impossibly close, and Phil couldn’t stop raking his eyes over the boy facing him. His face had changed, but not enough that his features weren’t still the most handsome Phil had ever seen.

Cheeks a little thinner, eyes that went a little deeper, but two cheeks that still blushed rosy pink, and lips that Phil had _missed_.

“Phil,” Dan chuckled, snapping him back to attention.

“Dan,” Phil breathed out, meeting his eyes properly to show him he was listening.

And it was time for listening, because it was time for answers; answers that Phil already knew.

Dan had written them all down for him, without ever knowing.

After Dan’s departure, Phil had fallen apart. The band had grown so concerned for him that they’d put everything on hold just to try and get him on his feet again. It wasn’t even a break-up so much as a mutual decision that Dan needed to do this, but it didn’t make things any easier. In fact, it made it so much harder that Phil couldn’t be what Dan needed instead, even though they both logically knew that would neither have been a healthy nor a long-term solution.

Wracked with guilt and grief, Phil had frantically searched around and contacted anyone and everyone who could possibly help him find Dan again, even just to know he was okay. Letting him go seemed, to Phil, to have been a wild mistake, and now he was in a frenzy trying to reverse it despite his instincts trying to reassure him it had been the right thing to do for them both.

And then he’d found it.

‘searchforflowers’

Dan’s blog.

Seeking out flowers as he sought out his own happiness, writing down his thoughts and experiences as he went, blissfully unaware that Phil knew of its existence. Unaware that Phil read every post over and over again like it was his lifeline. It was his lifeline. It was his only sign that Dan was doing okay, that he was ever real in the first place, because the boy dressed in grey with tears in his eyes that had left his house that day was just a ghost of the boy in a pink jumper with hair that Phil liked to thread flowers through.

So Phil had read, and recovered, and life had started again. And Dan had searched, and healed, and now he was here back in Phil’s arms, with no idea that Phil knew everything. No idea that Phil had read those most intimate of thoughts, the post where it all went wrong and the post where it had all started to get better.

The rose and the dandelion.

Dan was oblivious, but wouldn’t stay that way for much longer.

—

“I feel like I owe you an explanation of where I’ve been,” Dan sighed, knowing that didn’t even begin to cover what he owed Phil. He owed Phil everything, and an explanation was the very least he could do. “Except I have no idea where to start, and I’m also… well, I’m terrified.”

He dropped his gaze again and twisted his fingers around nervously. It had been a long time since he’d told anyone the truth, since he’d exposed himself so fully to someone face to face. And it was ridiculous, because this was _Phil_ , and yet that somehow made it all that much harder.

“Please don’t be,” Phil said softly, shuffling ever closer and rolling over to face him properly, gently prising Dan’s hands apart to take one in his own.

Dan focused on the feel of Phil’s fingers around his hand again, trying to clear his head. He idly noticed that Phil had some new tattoos, and chose this moment to peer at them more closely, unable to bring himself to meet Phil’s eyes. There was a new music note in the space between his index finger and thumb, which made Dan smile.

Running down the side of his thumb was a little vine of flowers inked in black, simple but pretty. The vine trailed off into a tiny magnifying glass, and Dan frowned at it, confused as to what that meant. And then he noticed that the flowers and the magnifying glass were drawn in exactly the same way, like they had been tattooed at the same time, like they went together.

Suddenly struggling to catch his breath, Dan twisted Phil’s hand over, and traced another new piece that ran alongside his wrist and trailed into his arm to match the rest of the colour already there. Phil allowed Dan to move his hand as he liked, but the tension was gathering, and Dan realised that Phil knew full well where his thoughts were headed, where they had settled.

There, in vivid colour, was a beautiful dandelion in full bloom.

Dan pressed a gentle fingertip to the centre of the drawing, and then peered up at Phil again, who was looking at him with an expression Dan had no idea how to decipher.

“Where do you think I should start?” Dan asked with a wavering voice, barely above a whisper.

“Well,” Phil said softly, twisting his hand back around to clasp Dan’s again. “Why don’t you start with dropping out of uni? And then you can tell me all about the blog and the amazing places you visited, and how you ended up here at my first show. And if there’s anyone else that might object to you being here right now?”

Without permission, a tear tracked its way down Dan’s face, as he was suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge, the definitive proof, that Phil knew everything. _Everything_.

“No,” Dan said, shaking his head. “Never.”

And then the tears came thick and fast, as everything Dan had been so scared of disappeared in just a few sentences.

Phil knew, and he hadn’t run away. He had stayed, with Dan’s hand in his, and now Phil’s arm around Dan, and Dan was safe again. He had read every word Dan had written over the last few months, every raw emotion Dan had posted without even giving it a second thought, just desperate for someone to hear his cries. And the one person who should have heard from the start, had heard them anyway.

Being here, in Phil’s hotel room, just the two of them again, the two of them and the tattoos Phil had gotten for Dan, that was too much.

Dan curled into Phil and sobbed.

—

It took an hour for them to calm down again.

They were still lying in the bed together, tangled in each other’s arms, eyelashes wet, eyes shining, but the worst was over.

Silence reigned for a long time, until Phil finally became the one to break it.

“A search for flowers… did you find them?” he asked hesitantly, nearly breathless.

It was as if he’d waited for this answer for so long, and now he was terrified of hearing it.

Dan considered the question.

Had he found his happiness? Impossible. But had he found his path back to it? Been guided in the direction he needed to try and clear his head again, start afresh, slowly find his way back to his old self?

“Yeah,” Dan said after a while. “Yeah, I think I did.”

The way Phil held him tighter after that said everything it needed to.

—

The groupie jokes followed them around for three days straight, but being welcomed back as an honorary member of the band like nothing had changed was all Dan needed. He assumed Phil had given them the bare minimum they needed to know to understand why Dan had disappeared so suddenly.

Because it had been so suddenly. One moment Dan had been at every rehearsal, and the next he was gone, like he’d never been there in the first place.

“You broke his heart, you know?” Cooper had said to him out of the blue one day as they watched a soundcheck he wasn’t needed in from the front of the stage.

“Yeah, I know,” Dan told him. “I know.”

They watched Phil again, watched as he finished his solo and then turned to flash them both a bright smile, before going back to sorting out his mic.

Dan didn’t even know what they were doing at the moment. They’d hardly spoken a word to each other in private, but they shared a bed every night, and spent every waking moment possible touching in some way. The joking they shared with the band during the day didn’t feel right when they were alone, and yet neither of them wanted to bring up anything more meaningful.

So instead they just tiptoed around one another, curling up in each other’s arms each night and enjoying the comfort it brought, but never saying as much. They ate breakfast with their legs over the other’s, didn’t walk anywhere without holding hands, constantly nuzzled into the other when they could, but left it at that.

“What is this, Dan?” Phil asked one day, after they’d been sat in silence for a full hour, just nestled up together on a sofa in the dressing room of the day.

It had been two weeks since Dan had shown up at the concert, and they were now five dates into the twenty date tour. Dan hadn’t left Phil’s side the entire time, and while he recognised that things were not quite right, he couldn’t admit to them being wrong enough to stop.

The more time Dan spent around his one-time boyfriend, the more Dan felt like himself again.

Watching Ollie apply eyeliner before a gig had prompted Dan to head out shopping one day and pick some up for himself. And then while he was out, he’d stumbled across a lilac button up that called out to him in a way clothes hadn’t for a while. One thing led to another, and he’d arrived back to the hotel that night with several bags of clothes, some light, some dark, new make-up, two pairs of canvas flats, one grey pair, one peach, and some white stud earrings.

He’d put together an outfit for dinner that night, but it had taken them an hour to get downstairs because Phil couldn’t stop crying.

And that was how Dan knew they weren’t right, and yet somehow it all still felt okay anyway.

“I don’t know,” Dan mumbled back, terrified that this was the point where Phil turned round and called it quits.

Things weren’t the same, and that was that. They’d been living in each other’s pockets for a fortnight already, and if things couldn’t go back to the way they once were, that was how it was. The one thing he’d been dreading this entire time had materialised, and he had to deal with it.

Except, it didn’t always feel like that. There was so many things unsaid, so many silences that felt strange, that weren’t there before, but there were also moments that always had been. Dan stealing the games console to show Phil how it was. Half-hour long hunts for the backs of Dan’s earrings when his clumsy fingers dropped them. Phil trying to count the stars on Dan’s shoulder and being scolded for including Dan’s freckles in the final total.

Dan wanted those moments still, wanted them all.

“Do you still want this?” Phil asked bluntly, clearly deciding that it was a time for complete honesty, unknowingly asking the question Dan had answered.

“Always,” Dan said quickly, sitting straight up, heart racing. “Don’t you?”

“I never stopped,” Phil said, running his thumb across Dan’s cheek. “But things are different.”

“Do you still love me?” Dan asked, catching Phil’s hand before he could draw it back and looking at him earnestly.

“Of course I do,” Phil said, shaking his head.

“Then things aren’t that different at all,” Dan said, hoping Phil could see that too.

That was the first night they kissed again.

—

“Thank you so much!” Ollie called, as the band hopped back on to the stage to the sound of thunderous applause, ready to play the last encore of the tour. “Tonight has been the best ending to this tour we could have imagined, and we really can’t thank you enough! Who’s ready for a few more songs?”

Phil started up an impressive guitar intro and the screams got louder, a smirk making its way onto his face the way it always did. He paused for a moment, letting the drums kick in, and then just before he came back in, he snuck a look to a figure at the side of the stage.

The boy was dressed in light blue jeans that cut off just above his ankle, and a relic of a band tshirt that was no longer available at their merch stores. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes held the same glimmer that Phil got to see every night before he closed his eyes.

He offered Phil a small smile, and Phil shot him a wink before continuing his set, finally feeling like things were getting back to normal.

—

The afterparty was an ode to old times.

The band and all of their crew members piled into the closest pub, ordering several rounds off the bat and cheering and hugging jovially.

Their very first tour had been a roaring success, lauded in the media as the start of something big, and raucous celebrations were required.

Dan had escaped outside for a moment, perching on a low stone wall to take a breath of fresh air.

He felt strange, but peaceful.

The last few months had been a whirlwind. He’d simply followed Phil around from place to place, and yet never questioned what he was doing. Not once had he felt the need to stop. He’d been with him through the highs and the lows, and it somehow felt like everything and nothing was different at the same time.

They loved each other though.

They had a way to go, but they still had that, and that was more than enough.

“This seat taken?”

It had been nearly two years, and yet the sound of Phil’s voice in Dan’s ear still made his stomach squirm.

“Sit down, sure,” Dan said dryly, trying to convey how unamused he was with Phil’s cheesy line, but failing as a grin spread across his face despite his best efforts.

“That was a good night,” Phil sighed wistfully, dropping down on to the window sill next to Dan, instinctively taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

Dan had noticed this was something Phil did very frequently nowadays, as if he was afraid that if he let go of Dan for more than a moment, Dan would drift away again. It made him sad, but looking up at Phil’s brilliant smile and glittering eyes told him that Phil was okay. They would both be okay in time.

“Was it though?” Dan asked doubtfully, raising an eyebrow at Phil. “I introduced myself as _sweaty_ , and then went on to tell you I liked all music except specifically yours, and finished by awkwardly stumbling away and praying we’d never see each other again because you probably thought I was _fucking nuts_.”

“Oh, I did,” Phil laughed. “I kept chuckling to myself all night. Couldn’t get you out of my mind though.”

“Loser.”

“More like the winner.”

“Phil, that was terrible, I need to go throw up somewhere.”

Phil looked at him fondly, tucked a piece of hair back into place, let his fingers rest on Dan’s flower crown for a second too long.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he whispered, so softly Dan almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m sorry I ever left,” Dan murmured back, letting his head fall on to Phil’s shoulder and closing his eyes, feeling safe tucked into him.

They both knew that Phil wasn’t just talking about Dan’s physical presence. Looking at him now, lilac cashmere jumper and rose earrings, he was near unrecognisable from the tired boy who had showed up to Phil’s first show a few months ago. Happiness was suddenly a tangible goal again, something Dan thought he could maybe achieve once more, and that was what meant the most.

Finding his flowers had been something Dan had to do on his own, but now the petals were in sight again, he was grateful for Phil’s steady presence to guide him back to the smaller things that ultimately added up to make him whole again.

“Don’t be,” Phil said earnestly, sitting up and twisting to face Dan.

Dan nodded, a silent ‘okay’ to Phil’s request. Phil smiled at the motion, and then reached into his pocket, digging around for something in there. Dan frowned, confused.

“There’s still something missing,” Phil explained, and then held his hand out to Dan.

It was just as beautiful as Dan remembered.

He had been so convinced that he’d lost it in his rush to get out of his flat, his head, and the knowledge that Phil had kept it safe for him all this time, just waiting to give it back to him, finally convinced Dan that Phil had been waiting for him. Only him. All this time. Whenever Dan was ready to return.

“Phil,” Dan sighed.

“I hope you still planned on marrying me, Howell.”

**Author's Note:**

> wait, you wanted to read dan’s blog posts too? i can’t just post them without his permission. you’ll have to go to his blog and read them yourself.


End file.
